Crowned

I have to admit--going into Thursdays NBA draft I was a bit apprehensive. Getting ones hopes up for something that isn't a guaranteed, take-it-to-the-bank deal is never a smart move. It's true with gambling, the housing market, and it's certainly true with sports. Of course, everyone in the Sacramento region, from Vacaville to Fair Oaks, from Redding to Modesto, threw that sage wisdom out the window and went ahead and got excited anyway.

For once, we hoped it would pay off.

The Kings, with the 5th overall selection, were slated to take DeMarcus Cousins, the big, bad, bruiser, out of Kentucky. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He was going to anchor, to solidify, not just the Kings' front court rotation, but the entire rebuilding process. How could we not get excited?

But as is the nature of sport (and the Kings are no exception), heartbreak is never far away, threatening, looming over everything like a haunting specter. I felt pretty confident about the first three picks: Wall, Turner, Favors. That seemed a lock for 1-2-3. But Minnesota at the 4th spot? Now that worried me. The last thing they needed was another big (they got their hands full in that department with a moody Al Jefferson, an under-played Kevin Love, and... Darko?), but there's something in the water up there that makes them a little pick crazy. Back-to-Back Point Guard selections in the first round of last years draft, plus another later on that same evening (that makes for three point-men total, for those of you scoring at home) understandably warranted that concern. What would have stopped them from nabbing Cousins?

Last time Kings fans were excited about the entire team? These guys were on the floor. We all know how that ended.

So it was with great trepidation that I watched David Stern (who was still practically glowing from the Lakers' championship victory. Which, by the way, he felt compelled to remind us of again. And you wonder why he gets booed?) take the podium for Minny's pick. He cleared his voice, and in that thick New York accent said:

With the fourth pick in the two-thousand-and-ten NBA Draft, the Minnesota Timberwolves select... Wesley Johnson, from Syracuse University.

Sigh of relief. Cousins was still available, floating in the ether. But honestly, I was still a bit concerned; until his name was called and his face masked by that large brimmed hat (aside: they must've found those lids in a box marked '1993'), I would not rest easy.

After 4 long minutes of Jay Bilas praising Johnson's "open court athleticism" and lauding his ability "to not just be a position player, but be a basketball player" (analysis!), the Commish once again took to the podium to announce Sacto's pick.

This is what followed.



Hell. Yes.

A 292-pound, 6'-11'' piece to the puzzle. With that selection, The Kings just made perhaps the most dramatic off-season turnaround EVER. The Kings took Spencer Hawes and Andres Nocioni and somehow morphed that into Samuel Dalembert and Demarcus Cousins. Holy hell. Incredible.

The frontline is now solid. Hustle guys like Brockman and Landry (my top two favorite Kings) will do the dirty work, while Sammy and the rook will be busy playing home-run derby with lay-ups. Soft no more. Throw in Casspi and Greene's steady development. Mix in the veteran savvy of Francisco Garcia and Beno Udrih (the other, other Slovenian) and you have your self a pretty good team.

And the best part? The cherry on top? The Kings also have this guy.

Hey there, kiddo.

The Kings are one more guard away, I'd say, from calling this rebuilding process all done. And there won't be a dearth of options when it comes to that. Sactown Royalty has a nice little list of who they could pick-up. My personal favorites? Ronnie Brewer or Steve Blake. Or bring Sergio Rodriguez back. I'd be down with that too.

After that, it's off to the races for the Kings. I see a take-no-prisoners, ass-kicking, merciless squad in the making. I see the Kings sneaking into the playoffs and giving the perennial powerhouses a scare. I see Tyreke slipping into MVP conversations pretty soon. I see ESPN writers putting together pieces like "Are the Kings back?" I see the Kings and Thunder going at it for years down the road, with Sacramento sadly hating Kevin Durant at the end of it all. And, if I really let my imagination go wild, I can see, probably in 5-6 years or so, this squad blowing out a rapidly fading Lakers team in a packed, rabid, and out-of-control Arco Arena.

Granted, I realize this kind of thinking is the stuff of broken hearts, the stuff I said no one should do at the beginning of this piece. But hey, what's life without a little risk, a little hurt? And if it works out in the end what a pay-off it'll be. Even if it doesn't happen, if Cousins is a bust and things fall apart, it'll be worth it. Because the feeling, the feeling of potential? That's hard to beat.

Hear that sound? That rumbling? Yeah, that's right. That's the roar of the Sacramento Kings. Get on board now or get out of the way.

"Hey, you guys need one more?" part 2

ESPN Page 2's Patrick Hruby wrote a pair of great articles detailing some of the different types of ballers that lace it up and take it to the blacktop for pick-up games. You can find both of them here and here. While both articles were super excellent, I still felt they were a tad incomplete. So, like any good writer, I blatantly ripped off the idea and wrote my own piece about it. Over this week and the next I'll detail all the guys I've met in my time playing and identify their closest NBA equivalent. Hopefully, after reading this, the next time you hear someone ask, "hey, you guys need one more?" you'll know exactly what you are getting into if you let him play.

You can find Part 1 here.

7. Mr. Deceptively Athletic

You line up against this guy when the game starts and you think to yourself "oh hell yeah, I got this." This guys isn't impressive by any stretch--with a little extra padding going on on his underside, maybe a bit of a double chin, lots of sweating, and the like, you'll think you are going up against the Michelin Man. You figure that this game will be easy. Take a breather on the defensive end and watch with hilarity as the guy tries to dribble around you. Visions of going off like Dwayne Wade on the offensive end fill your head, too. Beating him off the dribble, slicing through the lane, drawing double teams, and generally causing massive havoc for your opponents. Oh yes, it'll be great.

Of course, as usual, nothing is as it seems. Turns out, somehow, someway, this guy is actually in good shape. Underneath that pudgy, squishy exterior is a body that won't quit. He'll stay with you at all times on the defensive end, crushing your dreams of taking him to the hoop faster than Ty Lawson in the open court. Offensively too, he'll do his thing. His large size will give way to disarming quickness, quickness that will see you looking at the back of his sweat-stained shirt more times than you will care to admit.

Closest NBA equivalent: Paul Pierce

"Yeah, me and the flab under my arms just beat you off the dribble. Go think about that for a bit."

8. The Housefly

Now this guy? The Housefly? Now he's annoying. He gets the idea of defense, sure, but he takes it too far. Way too far. He's in good shape, and was probably taught how to play defense once or twice back in the fifth grade. But, that's all that he has, all he knows. He was taught to stay on his man, to stay in front of him. So he does that. Every moment of the game, no matter what.

You won't be able to get the ball because this guy will essentially hug you for the duration of the contest. From baseline to baseline, he'll mirror your every move: going right when you go left, left when you go right, stopping when you stop. His offensive game hasn't been seen since the first George Bush and he won't provide any help defense should one of his teammates need it. He has but one goal in mind: to smother his man with annoying, overly-enthusiastic defense.

Lucky you.

Closest NBA equivalent: Shane Battier

Dude, Shane, cut it out. We get it. Seriously.

9. The Intentional Fouler

We all hate The Intentional Fouler. This guy is an ass. Pick-up basketball is a gentleman's game, governed by unspoken rules that all participants adhere to and revere. Offense calls the fouls, offense takes the ball out at the top of the three point line. There is no fouling out, no shooting free-throws, none of that.

The Fouler is the one jerk that realizes this and exploits it. If he gets beat off the dribble, he'll wrap up his man. The Fouler will hip-check a guy if it looks like an easy lay-up is eminent. When people get mad at him for essentially flagrantly fouling everything in sight, he'll exclaim with pride "no easy buckets!" The Fouler doesn't get it--slapping guys isn't playing tough defense; it's being a jerk. He should watch the Charlotte Bobcats, now they play tough defense. What he's doing is essentially reenacting Wrestlemania.

If you are playing this guy, have a first-aid kit ready, because you're going to need to clean-up all the scrapes and bruises you're going to get from crashing to the floor every time you smell the basket.

Closest NBA equivalent: Jason Thompson

Goddammit, JT.

10. The Free-Throw Shooter

Ah, The Free-Throw Shooter. You can't blame him for what he does, but it's still a damn shame he's around. All too often, teams are selected by shooting free throws. Whoever makes the first 5 free-throws are on a team. Whoever is left are on the other. If there's an odd number, the last guy to make his freebie doesn't play. Easy peezy.

The Free-Throw Shooter is the definition of the one-trick pony. He has no other discernable skill, but he can sink free-throw after free-throw. He'll play in every possible game he can play in, solely because he knows how to hit his freebies. He probably sucks and his team may lose over and over because of him, but he doesn't need to worry or ever face the repercussions of his suckage (suckage is definitely a word. Look it up). He'll get to play in place of more skilled, deserving players simply because he cultivated a unique and specialized ability to hit a fifteen foot shot with high fidelity.

Closest NBA equivalent: Mo Williams

"Don't worry y'all--I made it!"
(Deng in the background): "Sigh..."

11. The Shawn Bradly

By far the most frustrating guy to play with. Not because he annoys other people. Not because he sucks. Not because he constantly fouls. No, he's the most frustrating guy to play with because all you can think about when he's on the court is wasted potential.

This guy is approaching the 7-foot range. He has the height to stare Dirk Nowitzki in the eye and probably, with a little effort, could hit his head on the rim if he jumped. The one problem is that this guy has absolutely no skill at all. He'll airball five-footers. His put-backs will rocket off the backboard with enough velocity to take someone's head off. He doesn't understand the screen and roll, boxing out, or running the open court.

He won't try to, but he'll amass blocks and rebounds by the dozens, simply by stretching out his arms. He really is wasted potential. Watching him play, you can't help but think what you could do on the court if only you had his size.

Closest NBA equivalent: Dwight Howard

Howard, taking a shot just a bit outside his range.

12. The One-Hit-Wonder

Now, most of these guys we see over and over. The tall guy who can't play, the guy who fouls like it's on a clearance sale, the lefty, the guy who jokes around too much. Yeah, those cats are all too familiar. But The One-Hit-Wonder? He's just the opposite.

This guy is great to play with. He's a good teammate, a hustler, knows when to pass and all that. He'll help you up off the ground if he fouls you too hard, saying "my bad, man," giving you a pat on the back and making sure you're ok. He's funny and light-hearted when he needs to be, but serious and competitive when it counts. He's good, but not overly so. He meshes right in, and makes friends with everyone. This guy is as chill a bro as they come.

But here's the kicker: after today, you'll never see him again. Ever. It'll be like he never existed. Ask if him he plays here often and he'll say "yeah all the time!" Then he'll grab his gear, stand up and explain that there's a place he has to be. As soon as he's out of sight, that's it. More elusive than the Sasquatch and Loch Ness monster's lovechild, you will never see The One-Hit-Wonder ever again.

Such a shame.

Closest NBA equivalent: Grant Hill

Just like Grant Hill, The One-Hit-Wonder is all about what could've been.

A Thorn In My Side

It's been a tad under a week since The Mid Range J last updated. The past few days have been busy; graduating from college, celebrating the end of this chapter in my life with family and friends, and enjoying the sudden lack of responsibility during my days have all played a part. But there's a bigger, more sinister reason why there's been some time off: these playoffs, ever so slowly, are destroying my love of the NBA.

Now, don't get up in arms thinking I hate basketball (never ever) or that I'm writing off the NBA; I'm just losing interest in it thanks to a combination of fatigue, boredom, and annoyance. I brought in my good friend Devil's Advocate to have a little discussion about all this.


Devil's Advocate: Fatigue? Why fatigue?

Scott: Why Fatigue? Well, shit, the NBA playoffs have been going on since April 17th, 2010. Check your calendars now--it's June 17th, 2010. For those of you going to UCD, that's since Picnic Day. That's two entire Goddamned months of playoff basketball. I don't care about giving an underdog a chance in the playoffs; in a seven game series, there are rarely upsets of that magnitude. A two-month post-season is an absolute joke. Remember the Bulls? Or the Bobcats? Hell, the Blazers or Mavericks? Yeah, just barely, right?

Recall this exciting action from Round 1? Of course not.

The NBA can only go to the well so many times, and frankly, allowing over 50% of the teams in the league into the playoffs is really pushing it. Too many games, too many blowouts.


Devil's Advocate: Boredom!?! Game 7 of the NBA Finals is tonight! How could you be bored?!?!

Scott: It's quite possible. Pardon my cynicism, but honestly, there's nothing else to talk about. Check any of the major news outlets that cover this stuff; there's nothing else to say. All of the storylines have been beaten to death.

Celtics-Lakers rivalry? Check. Kobe's legacy? Check. The legacy of the Big 3? Check. The health of KG and Bynum's (and now Perkins') knee? Check. Ray Allen's fleeting jumper? Check. The bench play of both teams? Check. Paul Pierce and Ron Artest? Check. Rondo becoming the best point guard alive? Check. (That one is total crock, by the way. If you can't make an 18 footer as a guard, you can't be the best at your position.)

Just look at Kobe and Pau; they're bored with it all too.

There's nothing new anymore, nothing exciting. No amount of analysis or posturing will change anything. Just let them play this last game already.


Devil's Advocate: But annoyance? Really?

Scott: Oh most definitely. I'm especially annoyed with these two franchises and their respective fanbases. Yes, I'm an open and proud Lakers hater. But don't let that trick you into thinking I'm a Celtics homer. Far from it; both teams have won way too many times. And because of that, their fans have become bloated, feasting on victory with unchecked gluttony. I'm sick and tired of seeing openly ignorant and mindless Facebook statuses about this series. People who clearly don't follow the sport until late May all of a sudden get a strong desire to exclaim their love for a team after every big game. Ask them cursory questions about their teams, or hell, the sport, and you'll get terrible answers in return.

Tell me, sudden NBA fans: without looking it up, who is this?

Trying to have thoughtful conversations with these people results in nothing but frustration, and what makes it even more unbearable is that "their team" will likely win the championship.

But I'm annoyed for many other reasons as well. The officiating, for instance, irks me to no end. No, this series hasn't been terribly biased one way or the other. But what it has been is straight-up awful. Too many touch fouls from the beginning have taken major players out of games all series long. But it goes deeper than that. Maybe it's just me, but the charge/blocking foul distinction has really gotten under my skin. It's honestly just a guess when it comes to that call now. Those guys are moving with such speed and force that an official doesn't have time to see the contact, find the location of the defenders feet, and ascertain if they are firmly planted to make the right call. The result? An uninformed guess.

Charge, block, or flop? Your guess is as good as mine. (Hint: the Laker got the benefit of the doubt.)

These uninformed guesses open the door for super-star treatment (If someone like Kobe gets in the lane to stop a drive? It's most definitely going the other way), make-up calls, and the like. It'll never happen, but the NBA needs to reform the foul system. Get rid of fouling out. And absolutely change the charge/block call distinction. All it does is lead to flopping and missed calls.

And don't even get me started on the arbitrariness of the new official reviewing system. Eeeesh.


Devil's Advocate: Well, this is all very depressing Scott. Is there a cure for your Summertime Blues?

Scott: First of all, great song, Devil's Advocate. And second of all, maybe. Perhaps, like a relationship on the rocks, I just need a break. At least from the playoffs. All the teams in the playoffs get so much media time that I really have reached a type of overload. I'm tired of hearing about the Cavaliers, the Suns, the Magic, the Nuggets, and definitely the Lakers and Celtics. Let's talk about the Timberwolves again. Will Kevin Love finally get some playing time? Will Al Jefferson return to form after his bad knee injury? How about their point-guard situation? Sure Jonny Flynn is good, but what about that whole Ricky Rubio debacle?

Or the 76ers? Or the Warriors? Or the Clippers? The less successful teams are interesting to talk about as well.

I want fantasy basketball to come back too. Updating rosters, checking the depth charts of every single team to get an edge, refreshing the injury page on Yahoo! Sports for updates, working my way through mock drafts--it's all awesome. It adds a whole new layer of enjoyment to what is often a long season.

Maybe I should just detox from it all; take the summer off, watch some baseball, go swimming, enjoy good BBQ, good beer, and good company.

Thankfully, this season ends tonight, no matter what. The boneheaded analysts will go quiet for a little bit, the bandwagon fans will switch to baseball and start rooting for the Red Sox, and I'll be able to take some time away and write about the aspects of the sport of basketball that I enjoy. At least I have that to look forward to, right?


Devil's Advocate: Hey Scott! ESPN just had a piece discussing LeBron's Free Agency!

Scott: Goddammit! Fine. You win, Devil's Advocate. You win.

"Hey, you guys need one more?" part 1

ESPN Page 2's Patrick Hruby wrote a pair of great articles detailing some of the different types of ballers that lace it up and take it to the blacktop for pick-up games. You can find both of them here and here. While both articles were super excellent, I still felt they were a tad incomplete. So, like any good writer, I blatantly ripped off the idea and wrote my own piece about it. Over this week and the next I'll detail all the guys I've met in my time playing and identify their closest NBA equivalent. Hopefully, after reading this, the next time you hear someone ask, "hey, you guys need one more?" you'll know exactly what you are getting into if you let him play.

1. The-Guy-Who-Takes-Things-Waaaay-Too-Seriously

This guy treats any game of pick-up like it's a Game 7 of the NBA Finals. No smiles. No high-fives. No "hey, good shot, man." Nothing. It's all business, all the time. He tends to be quite decent; he knows how to play, how to board, and how to hit the open cutter. There are definitely worse guys to have on your squad. But, there's just one little problem: it's not Game 7 of the NBA Finals. His level of intensity goes so far above and beyond what is called for in a game of pick-up that it's almost laughable. Just don't let him see you laugh, though. He won't be afraid to get on your case about your lack of commitment to the team (a team, mind you, that didn't exist five minutes ago).

He'll mutter under his breath when you miss a shot, shake his head in disappointment when you turn it over, and jut his jaw out when he makes a big play. This guy will dive for errant balls that don't have a snowflakes chance in Hell of being in play, just so he can crash to the floor in a vain attempt to demonstrate his commitment to winning (and use it as evidence against you later for that one time you failed to box-out your man). While you may win with a dude like this, he'll get under the skin of your entire squad, making you and your teammates wish he would just leave so you guys could go back to, you know, having fun.

Closest NBA equivalent: Kobe Bryant

You're very lucky murder is illegal in California, Shannon.

2. The Jokester

While The-Guy-Who-Takes-Things-Waaaay-Too-Seriously is all about winning, this guy is just the opposite. He could give a rip who wins the game. He's only there to get some cheap laughs and pal around with the bros. Give him the ball? He dribbles like a chicken with it's head-cut off. On defense? He'll try to bear-hug, titty-twist, and tickle his man. He'll try to imitate his favorite player, not run back on defense, shoot the ball from the half-court, and practice his lame stand-up routine throughout the game.

Sad thing is, this guy isn't even that funny. The early laughs he gets before the game aren't because his stuff is good, but rather because people feel bad that he keeps trying to extract a chuckle out of the crowd. Unfortunately, all these laughs do is fuel his one-man comedy-dream. The Jokester will then continue to pursue that dream right then and there. In the middle of a game. You think he would realize that a basketball contest isn't exactly the best time to crack wise, but apparently The Jokester missed the memo.

Closest NBA equivalent: LeBron James

I hate to interrupt your fun and games, LeBron, but it's halfway through the second quarter.

3. The Over-Accessorizer

The Over-Accessorizer can be spotted a mile away. The guy dresses like a traveling advertisement for the NBA: long socks, ankle-guards, wristbands, headband (maybe two, usually on upside-down), fashionable knee braces, finger tape, shooter sleeves. The list goes on and on. He'll also always be sporting a retro jersey of a current player and the newest pair of Jordans. The ones that cost 300 dollars. The one's that he waited for in-line at Footlocker. At midnight. For three hours.

Of course, the guy sucks. Maybe he's a step slower because he's sporting fifty pounds of gear. Or maybe he's slower because he had to check himself out in the mirror on that last trip down the court. The reason for his suckage really isn't clear. The one thing that is clear? All that money spent on gear should've gone towards basketball lessons.

Closest NBA equivalent: Josh Smith

I swear, Josh Smith is under there somewhere.

4. The Marksmen
(My city league team definitely encountered the guy that inspired this entry.)

Simply put, the Marksmen can shoot well. Exceedingly well. Give him some space to start out the game and he'll hit the open three. Next trip down the court, he'll pull-up and drain it again. Third time down, if you pick him up at the 3-point line, he'll pull up from 35 feet away and send the ball ripping through the bottom of the net. Try and guard him at 35 feet? He'll call for a pick, dribble around the screen, pull-up, and tickle the twine from long range. It's infuriating; every time he pulls up from that far away, any coach that has every coached the game tells you to let him take it. Because for most guys, that shot will go in 0 times out of 10. But for him? Oh, that's right in his range.

Thing is, this guy isn't great by any other measurement. In fact, he's pretty unspectacular. But it's because of these shortcomings that he's developed a money jumper. Shoulders squared, elbow directly under the ball, perfect flick of the wrist, swish. Every time. From anywhere. Even giving The Marksmen an inch of separation is too much. Often portly and short, this guy will smoke your entire team by hitting 6 straight long-balls that put the game away before your squad can even manage to throw together 3 buckets.

Talk about embarrassing.

Closest NBA equivalent: Ray Allen in the body of Sean May

This is about as creepy as it gets (Much thanks to Todd Zais for this bad-boy).

5. The Big Little Man

This guy is the opposite of the Little Big Man, in nearly every conceivable way. While the the Little Big Guy hurts his team by jacking up bad shots and under-utilizing his size, the Big Little Guy does just the opposite. He'll take the ball into the lost post, and, like a pro, head-fake one way, then reverse-pivot the other for an easy lay-up. His footwork down low is absolute money, and the little hooks and tear drops he sinks around defenders a good six inches taller than him is something to marvel.

And don't forget his rebounding. Somehow, someway, this guy always comes up with the board. Don't ask how. Don't ask why. Science continues to fail to explain how The Big Little Guy manages to rebound at a better clip than everyone else on the floor. Maybe it's luck? Maybe it's his speed? Anticipation? Telepathic ability? Your guess is as good as mine. Having him on your team is great because he'll always keep a possession alive. Your team could throw up brick after brick and The Big Little Guy will corral the ball off the rim, kick it back out, and let the offensive set start all over again.

His larger-than-expected size translates on defense too. He'll have no problem getting physical and bodying up guys twice his size in the low post. He'll bang down low, contest his man's baby hook, box him out, and crash that glass to get the rebound. His play is decidedly ugly, but damned effective, and it is as impressive a feat as there can be in a pick-up game. One warning, though: don't let him shoot jump-shots or try anything with finesse. His game is ugly, through and through, for both good and bad.

Closest NBA equivalent: Andre Miller

Fun fact: This bucket was only worth 1 point. It's all part of the NBA's "half-basket bonanza" promotion, a new campaign designed to give teams in the East a chance.

6. The Lefty

When playing defense, one of the first tenets students of the game are taught is to force your man to dribble with their off-hand. If he's a righty, force him left; if he's a lefty, force him right. It's simple; less dominant hands tend to have worse ball control, and gathering the rock on a lay-up with that other hand is a lot more difficult to execute. Since most people in the world are right-handed, the general rule of thumb is to force guys left. Simple.

The Lefty, however, will take that simple adage and burn you for it. You cut-off the right lane, but the guy takes you to the hoop with ease. Dribble, dribble, left step, right step, lay-in. No biggie--it was probably a fluke, so it won't happen again. But then he does do it again. And again. Then one time when he pulls up for three, with his left hand underneath the ball and his right guiding the rock, it dawns on you: this guy is The Lefty.

There's one in every game, usually. Maybe two. Never more than that though. But if you are the unlucky guy guarding him and don't know that? Be prepared to look like Mike Bibby on defense for a few plays until you figure it out. Of course, by that time, your teammates hate you for playing matador defense, and your team is probably down a couple buckets.

Way to go, champ.

Closest NBA equivalent: Manu Ginobli

Your dirty little secret's out of the bag now, bucko.

Say it ain't Hedo.

Sources say that Hedo Turkoglu, the now fallen-from-grace Raptor, has expressed interest in returning to Sacramento. Apparently the deal is simply a straight-up swap of Nocioni for Hedo.

Hedo? Wearing purple and white again?

Gulp.

Please, don't let this happen Geoff Petrie. Please. Hedo back with the Kings is a bad idea. B-A-D. Here are several reasons why:

1) Don't confuse the success of the Kings in the early 2000s with Hedo's quality as a player. That team was stacked. Super stacked. Starting 5? Mike Bibby, Doug Christie, Peja Stojakovic, Chris Webber, Vlade Divac. The bench? Bobby Jackson, Jim Jackson, Hedo Turkoglu, Keon Clark, Scot Pollard. Gerald Wallace was even on the team but didn't see any play time because the Kings were so deep. That is a great roster, 1-11. But, really, Hedo was just one small fraction of that squad. With or without him, they would have gone the same distance.

2) Also don't confuse the success of the Orlando Magic last year with Hedo's quality as a player. This is a common phenomena and an even more common mistake people, and especially GMs, make. Players that play deep into the play-offs recieve increased TV time, and as a result, we see them in action much more. Hedo's stint of play that went all the way to the NBA finals in 2009 gave him immense media burn, which lead to people overvaluing his skills, and allowed him to ride this wave of overexposure to a grossly disproportionate contract with Toronto.

3) By taking on Hedo, even if the Kings give up Nocioni's contract, Sacramento would have to accept his 5 year, $53 million contract. The Kings just did everything in its power to shed those bloated contracts from poor decisions of yore (looking at you Kevin Martin and Kenny Thomas). Why get back into a monetary bind?

4) Not to mention, this last season he's displayed both a pattern of arrogance and a disturbing dearth of work ethic. He took games off, went out on nights before games, and ate junk food before tip-off. All the while logging one of his worst statistical seasons ever (11 points, 5 rebounds, 4 assists). If he comes to the Kings he'll bring all that baggage with him. Don't know about you, but that's not exactly the kind of attitude I want him to dispense to a very young Kings squad. Tyreke already seems like he might have a troubled career ahead of him (with his recent speeding fiasco and the drive-by allegations from the past), and this type of attitude on the team won't help. Look at it this way: there's a reason he was excommunicated from Toronto.

5) Where does he fit in the system? Hedo's touted as a "point-forward," meaning he needs to handle the ball to be most effective. Sorry dude, we already have a great Point Guard. If you relegate him to the small forward spot, what then? Does that mean we're giving up on developing Donte Greene and Omri Casspi?

So, in short, he's not that good, he's overpaid (sitting on cap space is OK!), he'll be a bad influence on the younger players, and he doesn't fit in the system. Ya dig?

As bad as Noc is, a straight up one-for-one swap for Hedo is so freakin' stupid, I can't even wrap my head around it. They're very similar players, except Nocioni is slightly less offensively potent and slightly better defensively. And way cheaper. If the Raptors thought about throwing in someone like DeRozan, then maybe it would be worth it. But right now? Hell to the no. That engorged contract makes it super lopsided.

But I can still see it going down. The Kings are the most under-attended franchise in the league, and I'm sure the Maloofs would do anything to get people back into Arco. I can see the advertisement campaign now: "Come watch Past King Great Hedo Turkoglu play where he got started!" Can't you just picture it?

Sigh. I sure can.

See? It's not just me!

ESPN's Page 2 put up a stellar article entitled L.A. Lakers are now Public Enemy No. 1. It discusses exactly why the Lakers are reviled so much. Go read it right now.

If you don't have time, here are some of the more choice quotes from it:

The Lakers have become the most hated team in basketball, especially for real hoops fans. The Lakers remain the overwhelming favorite for casual fans, because they're a glamorous team in a glamorous city led by a glamorous star. On the other hand, no current team is the object of as much bile and venom -- again, especially from real fans who actually care about the NBA -- as L.A.

It's the truth. Lakers fans are simply a different breed of fan. Their fandom is as fair-weathered as the sunny city the franchise calls home. I conducted an informal poll on the UCDavis campus (located a mere 500 miles from LA! Lakers central, obviously) where I counted the number of Kobe jerseys and the number of Lakers jerseys. Intuitively, you'd think that, at the very extreme, Kobe and Laker jerseys would be the same number. Was this the case? Nope! The result was shocking: 7 total Kobe jerseys and 6 total Laker jerseys. Every single jersey I saw a Laker "fan" wearing had Bryant stamped on the back. And that 7th Bryant jersey?

His Team USA uniform, of course.

Go back to Italy, ya punk.

Ask any of these fans, fans who weren't wearing this stuff even a month ago, mind you, to explain how the Lakers acquired Pau Gasol, who DJ Mbenga is, or what constitutes running the Triangle Offense. Or better yet, just ask them to name any Laker that comes off the bench. Sit back and watch hilarity ensue as they try to navigate through these oh-so-difficult questions.

Here's another excerpt:

2002 -- Lakers conspiracy theories in full effect: With L.A. down 3-2 to the Sacramento Kings in the Western Conference finals, the Lakers shot 27 free throws in the fourth quarter, leading many Lakers haters (and neutral fans) to wonder whether the league and its referees wanted to ensure a Game 7. It's easy to hate league darlings. The Lakers won Game 7, then beat New Jersey for the three-peat. By this point, the Lakers' bandwagon was outrageous and full of fair-weather yet rabid fans across America -- many of whom were/are every bit as obnoxious as the stereotypes of their Cowboys and Yankees counterparts. To some extent, Lakers haters hate Lakers fans as much as the team itself.

This one really goes without saying. Kobe only has 3 rings. Yup, give the other one to the officiating crew that faithful night in May of 2002. And don't tell Kings fans to "get over it." We'll get over it as soon as you stop trumpeting around all the rings Kobe has like it's some kind of accomplishment. Getting help from the referees and obtaining Pau Gasol for free is not an impressive way to amass championships.

Ok, I need to stop now, before I get so mad it'll render all my studying for finals useless. Carry on as you were.

NBA Finals Recap, Game 1

Final Score: Boston 89, Los Angeles 102

Wow, what happened to Boston? Did the wheels fall off that quickly? Are the Lakers just that much better? Did Kevin Garnett's doppelganger, one that hasn't ever touched a basketball, suit up for the him instead?

To say that the Celtics looked different out there Thursday night would be like telling me that three day weekends are great. That smothering defense? Gone. Kobe was getting to the rack, sure. Gasol was getting his now signature put-backs, fine. But when Jordan Farmar gets uncontested lay-ins, something is going very, very wrong. The Celtics simply looked unprepared for the Lakers physical play. And not running back on D, guys? Seriously? Unacceptable. You do the NBA Finals, a place reserved for the highest level of play, a fat disservice by being lazy in the open court.

Abysmal passing, too. Perkins or Garnett would curl to the foul line looking for the ball, and the Celtics on the wing, vainly, stubbornly, would attempt the entry pass. Against that Laker length? No way. It was clear from the first 7 minutes that it wasn't working, and yet they soldiered on, blindly, turning it over or having plays broken up on what felt like every other possession.

The box score only shows the Celtics turning it over once more than the Lakers (13-12), but those tipped passes were hugely disruptive, causing havoc that a stat can't explain. A broken pass, especially in those Celtics offensive sets, means a broken play, most of the time. And because of that, Boston was left to force bad threes as the shot clock expired. The result of that? A 1-10 performance for Boston from downtown.

I don't get it either, KG.

Garnett looked gawd awful, missing Ray Allen in transition, whiffing on a wide-open two footer (absolutely baffling), and looking like a 5th grader playing with 8th graders out there. I don't get it; this doesn't feel right. Garnett is the one that's supposed to be making guys afraid, not vice versa. Ray Allen's normally money stroke didn't look properly calibrated for West Coast time, and Rajon Rondo's abysmal free throw shooting (1 for 4) continued. Win or lose this series, one thing is clear, Rondo should, nay, NEEDS to work on that in the off-season. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

The rest of the bench looked terrible, too. Glen Davis, Rasheed Wallace, Tony Allen? All no shows. Ironically, Nate Robinson, who went 0-3 from the field, somehow managed 4 dishes and a +/- of positive ten in only limited minutes. Who knows how that works. Paul Pierce, as always, showed up ready to play. Truth did what Truth does best, getting to the line, working that helter-skelter mid range game, and finding guys when the Lakers threw doubles his way. All against Artest, mind you, which is damn impressive. Too bad no one else on the Celtics cared to play.

On the flip side of the coin, oh my goodness.

Los Angeles, my dear, you looked fantastic. Have you lost weight? LA couldn't have turned in a better statement performance. Reading passing lanes a second ahead on the defensive end, diving for loose balls, grabbing every offensive board in sight, and really just wanting it more. And not just "wanting it" as in wanting to win the game more. I literally mean they wanted to physically hold onto the ball more. I know that's a cliche we hear coaches throw out on "Wired" during timeouts all the time, wanting it, but it's true; every loose ball seemed to be engulfed by a yellow jersey.

And those engulfed balls? Those led to quick, smart, outlet passes. And those outlet passes? Those led to perfectly heaved down-court lobs to guys leaking in transition.

Bynum looked fantastic as well, totally schooling defensive stopper Perkins on his way to 10 points on 4 of 6 shooting, which really went a long way to establishing the tone of this game. Knee injury? What knee injury?

Artest also played expertly, being in multiple places at once, bullying people up, getting his hands in plays, being a physical son of a gun, and basically just making life a living hell for every Celtic who had the misfortune of (literally) running into him. Meanwhile, Fisher was busy seducing the hoop, kissing the ball of the glass so well you thought he was making love to the backboard. And Kobe? Well, yeah, the kid played well. I don't need a degree in astrophysics to tell you that.

But the true secret to the win? Pau Gasol. Sorry Kobe lovers, but Pau Gasol won this game for the Lakers. One thing is exceedingly clear: Pau Gasol is the 1b to Kobe's 1a on this team, and perpetually serves as the Lakers safety-net on plays. He's there to mop up missed shots, salvage bad plays, and corral Kobe air balls. 23 points on only 8 of 14 shooting is unconsciously good. He was responsible for so many offensive put-backs and tip-outs (8 of his 14 boards came on the offensive end), that this alone fundamentally altered the outcome of this game. Defensively, he undressed Garnett while totally negating most of Rondo's quick drives, registering 3 blocks but disrupting countless more throughout his stint of pure dominance.

Why are Laker fans so afraid to admit that this dude is their best player?

It's as simple as this: Pau was born to play the pivot in the triangle. He has everything that the triangle requires of a big man--offensive potency, quick feet, and superior court vision. He won't get finals MVP, but if the Lakers win this series Pau, not Kobe, should get the nod.

And yet, given all this, it was only a ten point game until Kobe's three-pointer with under five seconds left. Somehow, someway, the Celtics managed to keep it close, most of the time in the single digit range, when it really felt like a 25 point blow out. The Celts aren't some collection of scrubs, even when they are getting punked. The Celtics should play better in game 2, yes. Garnett won't play like that again (count on that), Ray Ray's threes will start dropping, and they certainly won't get swept. Does any of that really matter, though?

Hard to say, but it's looking very, very, very bleak for Boston right now. These guys are vets, so don't expect them to go quietly into that good night, even if they have history working against them in a big way (Phil Jackson is 47-0 career in series after winning game 1). Time to dig deep, boys in green.

And if they can't, if they won't, dig deep? Let's just call this series now and start our summer breaks early.